by Hugh Ashton
“ Perhaps I was a little hasty in my examination,” said the Inspector, and his voice now sounded very unsure.”
“ Never mind,” Holmes reassured him. “ No doubt you have interviewed Mrs. Griffiths ? ” The other nodded. “ How do you understand that the body was discovered ? ”
“ She left the deceased sitting at the table, and left the room to fetch something, and when she returned, the deceased was—”
“ —deceased ? ” offered Holmes, not without a certain malice, which the inspector chose to ignore.
“ Whereupon, she fainted and remained unconscious until revived by her sons, who had just returned from their fishing.”
“ Do you remember what it was that she was carrying when she entered the room ? ”
“ Yes, it was the teapot.”
“ Ah yes, the teapot,” remarked Holmes. “ Watson, I realise that this may prove an impossible piece of thespian virtuosity, but I wish you to put yourself in the place of Mrs. Griffiths. You have left a gentleman sitting in front of his tea. You have returned, holding a fresh pot of tea, of some considerable weight. You did observe the size and the quality of the teapot, did you not ? Good. You open the door, and you see for yourself that your guest is sitting at the table, dripping gore, obviously slain by an unknown assailant. What do you do ? ”
I closed my eyes, and considered the matter. “ Having seen the woman in question, I would probably sink to the floor in a hysterical fit.”
Holmes clapped his hands together. “ Absolutely. Your thoughts and mine run in parallel on this matter. You would not, for example, consider placing the teapot on a small table, having first ensured that there was a mat placed underneath to protect the polish of the table, before sinking senseless to the floor ? ”
“ Indeed I would not.”
“ And yet, such was the case.”
The inspector looked puzzled. “ You are telling me that she had the presence of mind to seek out a mat and place it on a table before placing the teapot on it and then collapsing to the floor ? ”
“ Not at all, my dear Inspector. I am telling you that she never collapsed to the floor at all. The whole story of her faint is a complete fabrication. Let me tell you of something else.” Holmes then proceeded to relate to the inspector the story of how the two Griffiths sons had given contradictory accounts of how they had discovered their mother at the entrance to the room.
“ Well,” said the policeman, after much thought and scratching of his head. “ This certainly does put a different complexion on things, does it not ? ”
“ Indeed it does. Most notably, it casts considerable doubt on the timing of the death.”
“ Well, since you seem to have demolished my theory and that of Dr. Watson here, perhaps you would be good enough to let us know what you believe happened.”
“ With pleasure,” Holmes said to him, leaning back in his chair in that easy attitude that I knew so well. Outside the window, I could hear a wind starting to rise, and the first patter of drops of rain falling. “ What I believe happened, and I am confident that events will bear me out, is that Fuller had been paying his unwelcome attentions to Miss Gwen Griffiths. She had complained about this to her brothers, who were determined to take their revenge on him. They enlisted the help of her mother to set the scene, and to divert the attention of any investigator, other than an alert member of the species, such as yourself, Inspector,” he smiled. “ The plan was that their mother would announce that Fuller’s evening meal would be served at about the time she and her sons had arranged for the fishermen to return home. Her task was to seat the guest in the dining room, where he would wait, unsuspecting, for his meal. I have a feeling that Miss Gwen Griffiths was also involved here, maybe as an inducement to keep him in the room.”
“ That would explain why young Edwards had been sworn to secrecy regarding the time at which she visited him,” I broke in.
“ Precisely so. If she was an accomplice, she would need an alibi, and young Edwards strikes me as being a perfectly straightforward and honest young man whose affection for his young lady would guarantee her safety.”
“ And the whole business of setting the table with the food was an elaborate ruse to deceive us all regarding the time of death, and to provide an alibi for the three Williams lads ? ” said the police officer.
“ You have summed up the matter most admirably, Inspector. Mrs. Griffiths never fell to the floor in any faint, but being good housekeeper that she is, the idea of dropping a teapot full of tea onto her carpet was too much for her.” He rose, and closed the window. “ Dear me, I believe we are going to have quite a storm. Is it not strange how the human mind works ? Here is a woman who had quite coldly and calculatedly planned the death of a man, but found it impossible to allow a teapot to fall to the floor.” He shrugged. “ Such are the peculiarities of human nature.” His last words were punctuated by a flash of lightning, followed a few seconds afterwards by a roll of thunder. “ By George ! That sounded close.”
“ I have to admit, Mr. Holmes, that everything you have said makes perfect sense to me. When I looked at the body, it was difficult to see that one person could have committed all those atrocities, but if the work were divided between three, it makes much more sense. May I count on you and Dr. Watson to assist myself and Constable Evans with the arrests ? ”
“ I would prefer to remain in the background unless my assistance is absolutely required,” I objected. “ I spent some time in the company of David Griffiths, and even if he is guilty of the crime as we suspect, I would be reluctant to take part in his arrest.”
Rather to my surprise, Holmes seemed to agree with me. “ I concur with Watson here. Naturally, I will do my duty as a citizen if asked, but unless you feel that my presence is absolutely necessary, I would likewise prefer not to become involved.”
“ I do not think that Constable Evans will find this an easy task either,” commented the Inspector. “ He is from this village, and has grown up with the lads he has to arrest.”
“ He knew that such a thing was a possibility when he joined the Force,” remarked Holmes coldly. “ Watson and I are still free men in that regard.”
“ Very good. I will whistle for you if you are needed.” So saying, the inspector strode out of the room, calling for the constable as he went. His departure was marked by another lightning flash and crash of thunder. By now, the wind and rain had both increased in intensity.
Another flash of lightning and crack of thunder, and the inspector reappeared. “ They’ve gone ! ” he exclaimed. “ It seems that they have gone down to the harbour.”
“ Surely they would never put to sea in this storm,” I objected. “ They would never escape.”
“ They might escape justice,” Holmes pointed out.
“ You mean... ? ”
“ I mean simply that they may put to sea with no intention of ever returning.”
-oOo-
AS IT TURNED OUT, this is what eventually transpired. The three Griffiths brothers had indeed taken out their fishing boat into the worsening storm. Despite the entreaties of the police, no volunteer could be found to follow them out to sea, and neither they nor their boat were ever seen again.
The little Welsh inspector, whose attitude towards Holmes had completely changed, took note of Holmes’ recommendation that no prosecution be mounted against Mrs. Griffiths or her daughter, chiefly on the grounds that any evidence against them would be chiefly circumstantial.
We left the village of Abernetty two days after the events described above, much to the relief, I believe, of Mrs. Williams, who regarded us as birds of ill omen.
On the train returning to London, I could not help remarking to Holmes that I had been impressed by the speed with which he had come to the correct conclusion. “ How,” I asked him, “ did you first come to the realisation that the table had been laid following the death of Fuller, and not before ? Was it the bloodstains ? ”
Sherlock Holmes laughed. “ It w
as not that. It was something so trivial and so ludicrous that I restrained from mentioning it to the Inspector. You remember that that afternoon and evening were excessively warm ? Indeed in that house it was even warmer. Do you remember the custom of our landlady in decorating the butter which was provided for us to spread on our bread ? ”
“ Indeed I do. There was a charming little sprig of parsley on top of the pats of butter.”
“ Indeed. I do not know if it is a custom of the locality, or whether the Williams household had copied the habit of the Griffiths family, or whether it was the other way round, but at any rate, Mrs. Griffiths likewise adorned her butter with a touch of greenery. Had that plate of butter sat on the table for the length of time that we had been told, the parsley would have sunk into the butter to a considerable extent. As it was, it was relatively untouched. This suggested to me that the butter had been placed on the table comparatively recently. And if the butter, I reasoned, why not the whole of the meal ? From there, everything fell into place.” He leaned back in his seat and drew contentedly on his pipe. “ Ah, how good it will be to return to the peace and quiet of London after the hurly-burly of the Welsh countryside.”
-oOo-
SHERLOCK HOLMES
AND THE CASE OF THE FINSBURY HOUSE
EDITOR’S NOTE
This story was bound in manuscript form in a sealed envelope. It describes the adventure referred to in The Norwood Builder as “ the shocking affair of the Dutch steamship Friesland, which so nearly cost us both our lives”. Shocking it certainly is, and not simply for the crimes described in it. What was particularly shocking to me when I read this account was Holmes’ cavalier regard for Watson’s safety. Though he offers an apology to his friend, Watson does not record or even indicate that he fully accepts it, and it is possible that the incident rankled somewhat, possibly sufficiently for it to be excluded from the tales that Watson released to the public.
There was no title attached to this adventure, so I have taken the liberty of entitling it The Finsbury House.
-oOo-
MY FRIEND, the famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, had often displayed to me his interest in and knowledge of the musical world. I was, however, unaware of his interest in the more visual arts until the events related here, which formed the prologue to one of the more sensational and dangerous adventures in which he and I found ourselves involved.
I had recently been away from London, taking the air at a seaside resort. Holmes claimed to be immersed in a case of extraordinary delicacy, and did not accompany me. On my return following a week away from the metropolis, I entered our rooms at Baker-street to discover Holmes stretched at full length on the floor, face-down, examining what appeared to be a large painting through one of his lenses.
He greeted me with an absorbed air, without, however, bothering to turn his head or even to glance in my direction. “ Welcome back, Watson. Home is the sailor, home from the sea. I trust that your little holiday romance ended satisfactorily ? ”
Though it was true that I had made the acquaintance of a charming young lady during my time at Broadstairs, I had not mentioned this to Holmes in my communications to him, and my astonishment must have registered in my face.
“ The flower in your buttonhole, Watson. I have noticed that when a young man’s fancy, or even when your fancy, strays in the direction of romance, unaccustomed foliage tends to sprout in that area. There is also a decided spring in your step which cannot be wholly attributable to the effects of the sea air.”
“ You have hardly taken the trouble to glance in my direction since I entered the room,” I pointed out.
“ The trivial details that I have just remarked are perfectly clear to me, even when reflected in the surface of this lens, which constitutes an excellent mirror,” he retorted.
“ Leaving the question of my affections entirely to one side, may I enquire what on earth you are doing ? I confess that I had no idea that you are interested in matters such as this.”
“ All is grist to my mill where a case is involved. I have found myself in this position of being an expert in the arts owing to the force of circumstances, rather than as a result of choice on my part, though I confess that the subject of forgery in art presents its own particular interests, which could well repay further study at some time in the future. What do you make of this ? ” He asked me, springing to his feet and taking the picture, leaning it against the back of the sofa for my inspection.
“ I do not pretend to be any kind of expert in these things,” I told him. I regarded the picture, which was a portrait of a man in Stuart costume, somewhat in the Dutch style. “ If I was asked to give any kind of opinion, though, I would say that this was a 17th-century work, possibly the work of van Dyck, or one of his contemporaries.”
“ Bravo, Watson ! Bravo indeed. This portrait is indeed attributed to van Dyck. However, it is my considered opinion that it has been painted in the last few years—possibly even in the last year.”
“ And the owner of the painting wishes to verify its authenticity ? ” I asked. “ Surely it would be better for him to employ an expert in these matters ? Meaning no offence to you, my dear Holmes, but you are hardly widely regarded as being an authority on matters of art.”
“ By no means. This is a matter which has come to my attention almost by accident, as the result of my investigations into a case which would appear to have no connection at all with the world of art. Until two days ago, this painting was hanging in the gallery of Amberfield House.”
“ The London home of Sir Godfrey Leighbury ? ”
“ The same. Sir Godfrey had employed my services in a most delicate matter. His wife, Lady Celia, appeared to have mislaid a valuable diamond brooch, but was unable to tell him, or so it would appear, where the loss had occurred. On my examining the case, it was obvious to me that she was perfectly able to inform him of the whereabouts of the brooch, but was unwilling to do so. After a little time I was able to locate the brooch—she had inadvertently given me some clues as to its whereabouts—but it proved to have been set with false stones.”
“ I take it that originally it had been created using real diamonds ? ”
“ So I was informed, though, of course, I have no way of confirming this, other than the facts that the jewellery was insured, and that presumably the insurance company had made an accurate estimate of the brooch’s value. I informed Sir Godfrey of my findings, though it is not usually my place to come between husband and wife in such matters.
“ I took the opportunity of investigating further, and my suspicions were aroused when I observed that at least one of the paintings in the gallery had recently been removed and replaced. I enquired of Sir Godfrey whether any of the paintings had been taken down for restoration or for any other reason, but he was unable to confirm this. With his permission, therefore, I removed the painting which had originally attracted my attention, and arranged for it to be sent here where I could examine it at leisure. From what I can see, it appears that my suspicions were well founded.”
“ You believe it to be a forgery, then ? ”
“ I am almost certain of it. Oil paintings of a certain age exhibit cracks in their surface, the technical term for which is craquelure. Within those cracks, it is natural for dust to accumulate over the years. Although this painting exhibits cracks resembling the type of pattern I would expect to see on a work of art of this age, there is little or no dust within the cracks. This leads me to believe that the painting is a recent one. Will you accompany me to the National Gallery, where I wish to make a similar examination of a painting which is authentically the work of van Dyck ? ”
“ By all means. Do you wish to leave now ? ”
“ No, no. I wish you to observe for yourself the phenomenon about which I speak. There are also one or two other small matters to which I must attend. Here,” passing me the lens, “ although it is somewhat easier to see the dust when the painting is lying flat, as it was when you entere
d the room, you should still be able to make out the fact that there is little of the accumulated debris that one might expect in a painting over two centuries old.”
I looked, but to tell the truth I was somewhat unsure what Holmes expected me to observe. It did appear to me, though, that the painting was remarkably free of dirt and grime when it was scrutinised through Holmes’ high-powered lens. “ And the painting has not been cleaned or restored ? ” I asked him.
“ Certainly not in Sir Godfrey’s lifetime. It is obvious to me that the original painting has been substituted, and this forgery has taken its place. It is possible that this is the only painting in the gallery where this has occurred, but I fear, from my earlier observations, that there are at least two more works of art where this substitution has been carried out. But before I can pronounce definitively on the matter, it will be necessary for us to make a comparison with the painting of similar age. Hence my proposed visit to the National Gallery.”
“ If I understand correctly, you believe that the valuable objets d’art and trinkets belonging to Sir Godfrey’s family have been disposed of, and their loss disguised by their replacement with these counterfeits ? ”
“ Precisely.”
“ But to what end ? ”
“ That, Watson, is a matter of extreme delicacy, and I am unwilling in many ways to dip my toe into these waters. Lady Celia, as I am sure you are well aware from your perusal of the Society pages, is a favourite at Court, and if this is a matter of blackmail, however discreet I may be in my enquiries, it is inevitable that some attention will be drawn to the matter. At this time when the political situation is so delicate with regard to so many matters, such attention would be a welcome weapon in the hands of the Radicals, a weapon with which I am not prepared to furnish them.”